


This Overload

by MiniNephthys



Category: Animamundi Dark Alchemist
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniNephthys/pseuds/MiniNephthys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What I need, baby, is a little bit of sympathy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Overload

Georik's opinion of Mephistopheles is rather like his opinion of his kitchen knives: useful if wielded with good sense, dangerous if wielded with stupidity or insanity, and not to be used anywhere near his genitals.

"My master," Mephistopheles says, breathing in sharply. It's probably for effect; Georik has his doubts that Mephistopheles needs to breathe, and Georik's sock-covered foot pressing down on him through his layers of clothing wouldn't change that.

Mephistopheles is still not anywhere near his genitals, good. Georik still isn't certain whether this is stupid or insane, or if it is, how much stupidity or insanity he can get away with.

Mephistopheles is squirming in his position on the floor and Georik presses down harder, immediately drawing out a gasp and stopping the motion.

"Did I say you could move?" Georik asks.

"No, Master Georik." The flush in Mephistopheles' pale cheeks is probably real, unless he can control even that at will. "Thou did not."

"Then you may not move. Do nothing until I say otherwise."

Mephistopheles follows orders well. He is impressively still as Georik continues to stimulate him through his clothing - Georik is not exactly practiced at this but he doubts it's easy to remain motionless with pressure on one's intimates.

"M-Master Georik, let me..." Mephistopheles has interpreted that order as not including speech, and Georik allows that. "Please, I beg of thee..."

Begging. He likes that idea. "Go on. Speak further and perhaps you will convince me."

"It is torture itself, to be still under thy ministrations...! Worse than the pain of the fires of Hell is to receive thy pleasure and not respond to it. Please, allow my body to do as it will - I cannot endure another second of this agony!" Mephistopheles speaks in a rush, though not so much that his words are unclear.

Georik considers for a moment, idly continuing to move his foot. "You may move so long as you do not touch me and you do not take off your clothes."

A low moan escapes Mephistopheles' throat. "I thank thee, my master." His hips rock into the motions of Georik's foot as his fists clench into his clothes. "Master, do thou not wish for me to...?"

Georik realizes that he's quite visibly aroused. It's not a surprise, considering that he has a mess of a man on the floor begging for his touch, even if it _is_ Mephistopheles. "No. I will take care of it on my own."

"Please?" Mephistopheles asks, eyes lidded and face flushed.

Georik bites his lip before answering. "Beg and I may consider."

"I desire thee. Thy beauty and perfection stir things within myself that even I do not understand. To touch thee would be even more pleasing than any ministrations thou could provide. I ask that I might provide thee with some of this same pleasure..." Tears form at the corners of Mephistopheles' eyes - Georik hasn't pulled his foot away.

Now Georik knows he's crossed the border into insanity. "You may do as you will."

Mephistopheles has the sense not to tear Georik's clothes: that, Georik might not forgive him for, not even with his mouth hot and wet around him. His tongue does utterly wicked things to him, as befits a devil, and the first moan Georik releases makes Mephistopheles' entire body shudder.

Georik pulls Mephistopheles forward by the horn, and Mephistopheles doesn't seem capable of gagging. All the better.

For a moment before Georik's release, he feels a vague concern that perhaps he should not be giving of himself to a devil; this concern disappears in the white-hot pleasure that envelops him, as do all other thoughts.

Mephistopheles pulls away when he's done, licking his lips clean. "Thank you, Master Georik." There is a wet stain at the front of his clothes, and Georik realizes that he must have finished only on the ecstasy of serving him. The thought of repeating this stupidity is strangely appealing.

Georik arranges his clothes again. "Begone with you, and clean yourself."

"Of course." Mephistopheles bows his head briefly, and then is gone.


End file.
